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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23084545">Distant Memory</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zacixn/pseuds/KadeAK'>KadeAK (zacixn)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Inner Workings of the Late Subcon Prince [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Hat in Time (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Nonbinary Character, Reminiscing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:21:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,810</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23084545</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zacixn/pseuds/KadeAK</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>" It’d been such a long time since the Snatcher last found themself fighting off their burden of trauma that the spirit had almost forgotten just how bad a relapse could get. "</p><p>Snatcher struggles to cope with the surfacing of their emotions and memories towards the late Queen of Subcon. Fortunately, their contractually obligated daughter turns up to offer some emotional support.</p><p>[Yes, daughter. If you ship Snatcher and Hat Kid, do not even touch this fic, thank you.]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hat Kid &amp; Snatcher (A Hat in Time)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Inner Workings of the Late Subcon Prince [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>179</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Distant Memory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Fair warning, I've written this using they/them pronouns for the current iteration of Snatcher, because he canonically uses them.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’d been such a long time since the Snatcher last found themself fighting off their burden of trauma that the spirit had almost forgotten just how bad a relapse could get. In hindsight, they’d had it real good the past few weeks. While the weird kid had been very, very annoying, she’d done an excellent job of cleaning up the Subcon Forest as per her contract with Snatcher, even if they hadn’t been able to keep her soul in the end. And, while they would never admit it out loud, being her contractually obligated ‘BFF’ was not entirely too awful. </p><p>Of course, all good things came to an end. Today seemed to be the end of that nice, peaceful period of relative happiness, for lack of a better word. As soon as they woke up, Snatcher had been able to just tell that today would be quite awful. The hat kid had announced early in the morning that she would be busy for the majority of the day, too, so they couldn’t even blow off some steam by watching her do a couple of their specialty Death Wish contracts. Perhaps, though, that was a blessing in disguise, they thought as they sank into their familiar red armchair, head hidden in their hands – as soon as they’d stepped back in their Subcon home, their decade-old sadness had already reared its bitter, icy head.</p><p>In this situation, reminiscing was probably the worst possible thing to do, but there wasn’t much else for Snatcher to do. They’d already burnt through their books thousands of times before, already managed all they could in the forest’s areas, already handed out all of the stolen mail. Besides, once they even began to humour the idea of losing themself in their mind, things could only go downhill from there.</p><p>There was perhaps one downside to being able to morph their body into whatever they pleased, and for Snatcher, that was the fact that it was difficult to remain as their disconnected spirit form while they thought. Instinctively, their body shifted into a close approximation of their living self, a ripple running along their body as they allowed themself to wallow in the pure negative emotion of the affair. Perhaps if they let it all drain out, the next few weeks would be as good as the past had been. Their body, still coloured in its ethereal purple, felt far smaller than it usually did, the hands and legs and clothes familiar yet but a distant memory. A hollow sense of cold emptiness, the worst permanent emotional scar Vanessa left her ‘beloved prince’ with, bubbled to the surface where Snatcher had buried it deeply before, unearthing painful memories they thought they’d forgotten with it.</p><p>Snatcher wasn’t sure what hurt them more – the fact that she left him to die in such a cold, ruthless way, or the fact that they could not bring themselves to hate her for it unconditionally.</p><p>Drawing their body into a tight huddle on the chair, the ghostly prince shuddered, trying and failing not to dwell on the ‘happier times’ between the ex-royal couple. In hindsight, the red flags had been all but subtle when it came to Vanessa’s jealousy. Her possessive tone in letters, her obvious disdain for Snatcher’s law professor, her sudden and intense hatred for how much the prince had enjoyed bacon of all foods – all of it had been an obvious sign of something wrong. </p><p>In that case, what happened must entirely be the Snatcher’s fault for sticking around, then. He could’ve escaped with his life. The Kingdom of Subcon might have lived to see another day. But no, like a love-sick fool, Snatcher had stayed, and hoped, and through their damned rose-tinted glasses, all of the clear-as-day red flags had appeared as unassumingly regular flags, because of course, of course, of COURSE—</p><p>The sound of a Subconite knocking on the wood of the house shook Snatcher out of their impromptu self-deprecation, chest heaving with heavy breaths that they did not need to really be taking, and the ghost suddenly realised what position they’d twisted themself into. Their hands had tightened around their body, entirely wrapped into a ball on the seat of the chair which was decidedly too big for this regular human sized body. Something cold, colder than the Queen’s ice, was gently dripping down Snatcher’s cheek, beading at their chin. Their chest tightened as it occurred to them that they were crying, an awful sob escaping them. Oh, hell. This really must have been a long time coming.</p><p>Unfurling hesitantly, the ghostly prince reached to his face in an attempt to stifle the emotion, but they found themself only getting more frustrated as the steady stream of tears refused to relent. Even though Snatcher did not need to breathe, it felt like they were suffocating on their helplessness, and it was quite possibly the just the worst. Not to mention the fact that not two feet away stood a concerned minion, clearly too scared out of its mind to decide whether to speak up or run away.</p><p>“Uh… boss?” the Subconite eventually piped up, voice laced thickly with fear and hesitation. “The kid-“ </p><p>“GET. OUT!” Snatcher howled as his sadness erupted in a mix of frustration, anger, and humiliation, their ghostly hair flaring up in the unintentional burst of energy. Their claws re-formed, sinking into the resistant cloth of the armchair as they whipped their head around to glare the unfortunate minion down, tears still streaming openly down their face. The Subconite wasted no time running away, crying apologies as it went, its message forgotten in the haste, so Snatcher sank into their seat, placing their face in their hands once more as they submitted to the deep sadness for a moment longer, allowing a few more powerful sobs to course through their body.</p><p>-<br/>
Eventually, after what felt like a long, long, time, they relaxed a little, sinking into their seat. The princely appearance did not fade, no matter how hard Snatcher focused on their usual appearance – perhaps they were simply too tired from the burst of energy earlier to shift back. The spirit let out a deep sigh, wiping their eyes free of any excess tears. </p><p>The spirit was just about to get up to go and look for a poor lost sap to consume the soul of when a quiet, familiar knock pattern sounded from the entrance of the tree house.</p><p>Snatcher froze, before looking up to see the small, concerned face of Hat Kid peeking over the wooden exterior of the tree. She hopped over with little effort. It looked like she’d been busy – she was holding a book of some sort underneath her arm that only had about eight to ten pages inside. In her other hand was a lunchbox, painted with some alien pet character, that was steaming at the edges with some kind of food steam.</p><p>“What is it, kid?” Snatcher sighed, resigning themself to sit back down. They were too drained from earlier to really feel much at all at the moment. “I’m not in the mood for any contracts today.”</p><p>Hat Kid wordlessly pulled the book out from underneath her arm, and hopped up to sit beside them. They both fit snugly, since Snatcher wasn’t quite so large at the moment. She opened the first page up to reveal the title of it, which had mysteriously not been on the front over, and—oh. ‘The Tale of Queen Vanessa’. They’d sort of hoped that this kid of all people would have remained oblivious to their past, but what with their current appearance, well. This sort of thing was probably due to happen sooner or later.</p><p>The pages of the book were short, but as Snatcher flipped through them, it was clear that they were detailed. In only nine pages, there laid the entire tragedy of Subcon. No words needed. Every memory that Snatcher had just been recalling laid at their fingertips as Hat Kid looked up at them in clear worry. She was… worried for them. As they ran a finger over the last two pages, the ‘here they are now’ double spread of their forms just after dying, the kid wrapped her arms around Snatcher in her best approximation of a bear hug, and for once, the spirit did not try to weasel out of it. Gentle tears beaded at their yellow eyes, so they wiped them with a free hand before they spoiled the book’s pages. </p><p>“K… Kiddo, where’d you even get this?” they asked after a little while, firmly closing the book so they didn’t have to look at their naïve self a moment longer. Hat Kid pulled away from the close contact, thinking for a moment before using her free hand to sign two words that Snatcher had become very much used to from her – time rift. So, these images had been spit out by the fabric of the universe itself, huh? “I should’ve guessed.” Snatcher’s voice was rough, considerably less… performed than usual. To one of the Subconites, they might have sounded just like how the Prince used to when he visited. Now, to Hat Kid, they simply sounded worn out.</p><p>The child took this opportunity to present Snatcher with the steaming lunchbox. Open, she signed, and so the ghost took the lunchbox and opened its lid. Immediately, an enticing aroma filled the room, accompanied by a sensation of warmth. And what was inside – well, Snatcher could hardly believe their eyes. The yellow plastic box was basically filled to the brim with somehow perfectly cooked bacon.</p><p>“Don’t tell me this is why you were going to be busy all day,” the ghost deadpanned. This kid was really something else, to waste her time getting a food product just for a spirit who pretended they hated her. Nonetheless, Hat Kid beamed up at them, nodding. What a kid. The sadness of the day had been all but washed away by her simple kindness. Snatcher let out a snort-laugh as they began to return to their usual energy levels.</p><p>“Alright, kid! Just because I’m accepting this doesn’t mean I like you, I’m just contractually obligated to accept it.” They made a show of closing the lid, and then standing up, cracking their back and slowly finding the energy to twist back into their significantly more comfortable ghostly shape. “God! I do not know how the hell you pipsqueaks deal with having a spine!” They clasped their hands together. “Oh well! Doesn’t matter. I suppose it means I get greater pleasure from watching you break yours!” </p><p>Hat Kid simply laughed, standing up alongside them. She seemed pleased that her plan had worked. For the level of smugness she exuded sometimes, it was in times like these when Snatcher didn’t particularly mind having almost-adopted this little space rat.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was roughly based off of an art post on my tumblr, @zacixn, so if you want to see what kinds of Snontent (Snatcher Content) I hope to make, please do check it out.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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